


the last people standing (at the end of the night)

by MediaWhore



Series: childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Grief, Louis-centric, M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Character Death, Police AU, Undercover, Undercover Cops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1711406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediaWhore/pseuds/MediaWhore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1018729"> the greatest pretenders (in the cold morning light) </a></p><p>A year after his undercover assignment ended, Louis should finally feel at peace. With Cowell & Co finally dead or behind bars, his life is more simple than ever. It's too bad his feelings can't be buried as deep as the people he's lost.</p><p>An undercover cops AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	the last people standing (at the end of the night)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So, this is a sequel that's been in the work for a few months. I would definitely recommend reading the first one before tackling this, unless you want to be slightly confused. As with the previous one, it's mostly Louis centric and pretty angsty.

It’s the daisies that throw him off. It’s not that Louis expected Zayn’s grave to be completely unattended to but... Yes. He kind of did. He’s not particularly proud of it, but a part of him, no matter how small that part is, was insistently convinced that Zayn was one of those people... Louis thought that, like him, Zayn had been picked for the undercover program because he was alone, unattached. He thought Zayn was someone who wouldn’t be missed should the worst come to pass, someone whose grave would receive very little attention, a man without people to care he was gone.

Louis himself wasn’t even supposed to come really. It wasn’t planned or anything. He’s been edging towards the idea for ages, of course. Ever since Zayn’s eyes widened and his body went still. Even in the darkest moments, when he was comforting himself with the idea that Zayn was nothing but a criminal - a bad guy for which no tears would be shed - the desire to pay his respect was there, unavoidable. He didn’t have the intention to actually do anything about it, but as the weeks passed by, the idea grew bigger, until it settled in his brain; a one-day-surely-i-will sort of thing.

Louis doesn’t know why today is different. There’s no good reason as to why he suddenly had the impulse to make today the day. He didn’t wake up with the desire. It hasn’t been torturing him for awhile, keeping him up at night or anything like that. Today has been completely normal and nothing stands out to explain why he’s standing here, heart beating furiously, staring at Zayn’s name in the granite.

He had tea with Harry. He saw his therapist. He took a walk. Nothing different or special, and yet. As he was walking around, the idea became a need and here he is staring at the daisies on Zayn’s grave like an idiot, wishing he’d brought something a bit more meaningful than a pack of newports to leave as a symbol of their friendship.

The thing is, the cigarettes do feel like a good symbol of their friendship and the fact the he feels like it fails as a gift brings back all sort of questions he’s been torturing himself with those past few months since Zayn died. Were they really friends? Can someone really form a meaningful connection with someone else when neither of them were really themselves? How can he mourn something based on a lie? Louis knows he’s only hurting himself with these, but he feels so stupid, still torn up over the death of someone he barely knew, still being filled with guilt over it. Harry keeps saying that conditions don’t matter, that if he felt a connection, then there was one, that he’s entitled to his feelings. It’s hard though and Louis isn’t quite sure. He still misses Zayn. Or who Zayn pretended to be. He’s a bit shocked to realize he might not be the only one.

He was planning on saying something, trying to cleanse himself of all of those negative feelings and confusing thoughts. Apparently, talking to the dead helps or some shit. Louis wouldn’t know. He’s never tried. The thought of standing at his mother’s grave and say stuff does nothing but make him feel nauseous. Still, he was ready to try it with Zayn somehow. But now that he’s here, faced with the idea that he might not be alone in this, that there’s someone else who cried over Zayn, he’s not sure what to say. What if it’s Zayn’s mother? Or father? How dare he be upset if that’s the case?

He bites on his lower lip nervously for a few seconds, hoping inspiration will come, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know where to even start. So he leaves like a coward; throws the fags in front of the tomb and barely glances back.

 

*

 

That night, Harry and him are invited to Niall’s place. It’s probably the last thing he wants to do, but saying so would be admitting that something is wrong and Harry is already giving him little concerned looks when he thinks he can’t be seen. Louis doesn’t want to worry him further or give him the opportunity to ask, so he goes without a complaint. He smiles and acts a bit obnoxious, flamboyant like he only is when something really is bothering him, and if they can see that this is one of his off days, those days where he feels scattered all over - nowhere and everywhere all at once - well they have the decency of letting him pretend. They have the decency not to ask or push when he so clearly doesn’t want to talk. Niall laughs at his jokes as usual and Louis almost has fun.

Turns out that when he doesn’t have someone’s life in his hands, when he isn’t responsible for their safety, Niall is actually a pretty decent bloke. He’s even fun to be around, and that’s one thing that Louis never expected to say about Niall Horan. He remembers how much he hated him when he was undercover, how the last person he wanted to deal with was him, and he can’t quite understand how that Niall and this Niall can be the same person and how much of a difference circumstances can make. He can’t always reconcile the two personalities together. It’s actually part of the fun, Louis keeps telling himself. It’s amusing and interesting, trying to see how much of one fits into the other, see if he can pierce through the layers of Niall’s personas. Hell, the fact that Niall is someone Louis considers has layers is a surprise in itself. If asked, all those months ago, when they kept bickering, frightened, with the weight of the world on their shoulders, Louis would have said Niall was an arse and nothing else. Now, he can try and see him for all that he is. It’s a good distraction for now at least, and Louis’ glad Harry forced him to go to the pub, that first time, barely a few days after everything came to an end and he got his life back. Harry had insisted and insisted, saying it would be good to see Niall and distract himself a little and he had gone simply because he couldn’t stand the nagging anymore, couldn’t even bear the thought of it. Of course, Harry only had his well being in mind, as usual, and he was right, as usual, that cheeky idiot. He was right and now Louis can say he has one more friend on his very short list. And he knows how precious that is.

“Out with it,” Niall finally says, frowning, when Harry leaves for the bathroom.

“What?” Louis asks because while they have gotten closer they’re not the touchy-feely type together.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“S’not important,” Louis says even though he’s dying to ask.

“It’s important enough to make you fucking mopy. And not want to tell Haz about it so...” Niall raises an eyebrow in defiance, urging Louis to try and deny it.

“Harry would worry,” Louis says in a small voice. Worrying Harry is his least favourite thing to do. Incidentally, it seems to be one of the only thing he’s extremely good at.

“I won’t worry,” Niall drops casually and Louis can’t even try and feel irritated because Niall is the least subtle person on Earth and it’s almost funny. Besides, he’s the only one who knows. He’s the only person who could answer his questions. And he might explode if he doesn’t ask.

“It’s about Zayn,” Louis says after a beat and he can tell immediately that it’s not what Niall expected at all. His expressive mouth opens in surprise, eyes slightly rounder in astonishment.

“Riiiight,” Niall says a bit awkwardly, clearly upset.

Louis feels a bit like an idiot, carrying this sadness around him, feeling alone in this while there are clearly other people impacted by what happened. Niall obviously being one of them.

“I… uh.” Louis hesitates. “I went to see him today.”

“You mean…” Niall trails off, clearly still uncomfortably and Louis feels guilty and stupid for even mentioning it, but he started now and he can’t really see himself stopping. Not when he’s so close.“Like at the cemetery?” Niall finally asks.

“Yeah,” Louis replies hesitantly. “I didn’t go before because… Well I dunno. But I did, I went to see him and I thought…”

“What?” Niall insists.

“I thought it’d help… I thought going would make me…” Louis shrugs, feeling a bit stupid. “I thought I’d feel better or some shit. I thought talking to him would help,” he adds rolling his eyes at himself.

Niall doesn’t laugh though.

“Did it?” He asks seriously and Louis has to laugh at that.

“I didn’t talk to it…” he replies. “Him?” he adds, uncertain, after a second.

Niall snorts.

“Fuck,” Louis says. “Anyway. There was…” he trails off again, unable to get to the point. He feels selfish is the thing. Niall’s face actually fell when he heard Zayn’s name, like it was one of the worst thing Louis could have said, the worst conversation topic that he could have brought up. And when he thinks about it for more than one second, Louis realises that it probably is. Niall was supposed to take care of Zayn, the same way he took care of Louis and Louis is fine and things are good, but Zayn is still dead and that flicker of pain in Niall’s eyes is not going anywhere. Yet here is Louis being a thoughtless dick, somehow feeling shocked that someone bothered to leave something on a grave. For all he knows, it was Niall himself trying to honour Zayn’s memory.

“There were flowers on his grave and I guess, it surprised me?”

Niall doesn’t say anything, just stares at Louis and waits for him to go on.

“I guess… When I thought I was going to die,” Louis starts clumsily and it feels weird but somehow necessary to say these things out loud. “ I figured I was so alone that no one but you guys, you and Liam I mean, would be there afterwards. I figured… there wouldn’t be anyone left to mourn me, you know?” He finishes, eyes wet and voice shaky. “I thought about it a lot of course, because of… Well, you know,” he laughs darkly. “ I just assumed all the other undercovers were like me that’s all. The no friends and family kind of package.”

Louis shrugs like it’s no big deal, but it is, somehow.

“Louis,” Niall starts, clearly emotional.

“It’s fine,” Louis says sharply, not sure he’s ready to go there with Niall, not sure their slowly budding friendship can endure the kind of heavy baggage Louis carries around. “It just threw me off, that’s why I’m a bit…” Louis gesticulates awkwardly for a few seconds, failing to properly articulate the mess of things he’s feeling right now.

Niall nods quickly, like he understands what Louis’ shaky hands are trying to say, even though Louis himself doesn’t know.

There’s a bang coming from the hall and Harry’s voice saying “ owwww” before he enters the room, rubbing at his elbow.

“You okay, babe?” Louis quickly asks, glad for the distraction, secretly hoping that Niall will now officially drop the whole thing even if he didn’t get to ask what he truly wanted to know.

Harry nods with a small laugh. “Yep. Just my clumsy self making an appearance as usual.”

Louis shakes his head slowly, before grabbing Harry’s arm and kissing his elbow loudly.

“You guys are gross,” Niall says with a grimace, the mood officially lifted.

Louis raises his eyebrows to the challenge and licks Harry’s forearm, elbow to wrist, while Harry sighs.

“Lou…” Harry laughs as Niall rolls his eyes and mutters “gross” under his breath.

Louis would almost believe his irritation if not for the huge smile on his face and the fondness in his eyes. He’s pretty sure Niall thinks they’re cute.

“What?” Louis asks innocently, trying to push his dark thoughts away. “I made it better.”

Harry shakes his head and rubs his arms against his jeans, trying to dry it off. “Not sure how that was particularly helpful Lou”

Louis wraps a hand around Harry’s hips, anchoring himself to the moment, to this light-heartedness he desperately needs. He doesn’t say anything though, not sure he can keep up the banter when he feels like such a dick for putting his insecurities out there, for forcing Niall to listen to it all. Harry doesn’t comment on the mood shift, even though Louis knows he probably noticed. He just passes a big hand through Louis’ fringe, rubbing his forehead slowly with his thumb.

“Tired?” He asks slowly after a few seconds and Louis can only nod. When is he not tired these days?

“Yeah,” he finally replies after a beat.“You ready to go or…?”

Harry blinks slowly and reaches down to kiss Louis’ temple pressing a nod into Louis’ skin.

“You don’t mind Nialler?” Harry asks and Niall is quick in his agreement that he is also exhausted.

Louis is pretty sure they’re both humouring him, aware that this has been one of the tough one, one of those days in which he can’t quite fit into his skin and has to compensate for it until he feels like collapsing. Still, he’s grateful. A year ago, he didn’t have anyone, no support system at all. A year ago, he was nothing, but a lost boy trapped in an obligation he wasn’t sure he could still fulfill. A year ago, he woke up scared everyday and went to bed even more terrified every night. All in all, things are relatively good.

 

*

 

They get ready for bed in silence, Harry clearly waiting for Louis to make the first move, to say something first. He won’t though. He’s not sure he can yet. The good thing is that he knows Harry won’t push. This silence isn’t tensed, it’s respectful. It’s Harry’s way of saying _I know you’re not ready to talk yet but I’ll be there when you are_. Louis doesn’t know what he’d do without Harry sometimes and he _hates hates hates_ himself for the Twilight co-dependent bullshit, but he can’t help it, doesn’t have the strength to crush the thought when it comes to him in the darkness. He thinks about Zayn and he feels lucky. He feels lucky to be alive, lucky to have someone silently supporting him, respecting his rhythm, being there on the good days and more importantly on the bad ones.

Harry is scrolling on his phone, laying over the covers and wearing nothing but boxers when Louis gets back into the bedroom after brushing his teeth. It would take barely a second for him to drop everything and listen if Louis felt inclined to share. He sort of wants to, feels heavy with grief and confusion. Still, he goes on his side of the bed and quickly hides underneath the covers, back facing Harry, determined not to think about Zayn. He hears Harry sighs loudly and the click of the bedside lamp. A few seconds later, Harry moulds himself to his back, tangling their hands and feet.

“I would have mourned you, you know,” Harry whispers in his neck.

Louis gulps loudly and blinks as fast as he can, hoping to control his emotions as much as possible. He feels Harry’s lips press a tiny kiss where his neck meets his shoulder.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he continues softly. “But I really need you to know that, okay?” He doesn’t wait for a confirmation. He just kiss Louis’ neck again and keep on talking. “I heard what you said to Niall and I couldn’t… I just had to… Look, I would have been upset about you dying, so you can stop torturing yourself with that bullshit that nobody cared. I did. I do.”

“I…” Louis clears his throat. “I know, obviously. It’s just…”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to though,” Louis interrupts, surprising even himself. “I want to tell you about it.”

He doesn’t elaborate though. He just lets the seconds tick by, lulling himself with Harry’s tingling breath on his neck and the warmth of their bodies tightly pressed together. Finally, he speaks, feeling slightly sick.

“I thought I was alone missing Zayn and I felt… stupid missing him, considering… Well, you know all that, we’ve talked about it.”

Harry simply hums in response.

“I’m not alone though, am I?” Louis asks and that’s when the tears start to fall. “There’s someone out there missing him as much as I do, even more probably!” He adds, getting more and more animated. “ And here I am, complaining like a selfish idiot, thinking I’m even allowed to be upset when…”

“Lou,” Harry says and he sounds really sad. “Lou, no,” he repeats as he starts to turn Louis’s malleable body around so that they can face each other.

When he finally succeeds, Louis doesn’t even feel the shame anymore. He just stares into Harry eyes before rolling his dramatically, a shadow of his sarcastic trademark, made tragic by the tears he still can’t control. Harry doesn’t comment at this pitiful attempt at self-deprecation to diffuse the tension. He just take Louis’ cheeks in his hand and kisses his nose.

“You can’t compare grief,” Harry finally whispers. “Sorry love, but that’s stupid. That’s just…”

Louis nods because he knows, of course he knows. They’ve talked about it. He’s talked about it with Harry. He’s talked about with his therapist. Hell, he’s even thought about it, reminding himself that it’s just not how life works.

“It’s hard though ‘cause I didn’t really know him and-”

“Louis,” Harry says more firmly. “You saw him die.”

Louis’ eyes widen at the comment. His heart starts beating a bit faster, surprised and confused by Harry’s bluntness. They don’t usually touch this part. Even Louis doesn’t think about this part. Even on the bad days, the worst ones, Louis doesn’t dare think about this part. He doesn’t think about Zayn’s grip on his arm. He doesn’t think about the sound of Liam’s body hitting the concrete. Louis doesn’t allow himself to think of those two men who mattered to him and how he let them die.

“I…”

“He mattered to you,” Harry adds more softly. “He mattered to you and you saw him die. You’re allowed to be upset, okay. No matter who else is missing him.”

Louis just shakes his head, knowing he’s too troubled to talk. Harry seems to know it too because he doesn’t add anything. He just holds Louis a little tighter, wraps his long arms around him, and kiss his temple.

“I love you,” Harry whispers and Louis thinks _I love you too_ very loudly, hoping Harry can still hear it even if he can’t say it at the moment, not tonight, not through those tears.

 

*

 

The next morning, Louis wakes up too early, tensed and breathless from a nightmare he can barely remember. He tries to go back to sleep for a bit, but after twenty minutes of turning around uncomfortably he figures he’s going to end up waking Harry before ever drifting off again so he slips away silently. It’s too early to do much of anything and he feels a bit sick, distorted images still burning through his mind and gun shots ringing in his ears.

“It was only a dream, don’t be a wanker,” he mutters to himself as he closes the bathroom door.

He washes away all traces of the bad dream in a hot shower, waits until his shoulders feel relaxed and his breath isn’t as erratic. He only washes his hair after his hands have stopped shaking and even then he still feels a bit off.

He’s so far in his mind that he doesn’t hear the sound of the bathroom door opening and it’s only when Harry slips into the shower that Louis realizes he’s no longer alone.

“Oh my fucking God!” He yelps when he notices.

“Hey,” Harry simply replies, looking innocent as ever with his sleepy eyes, his tousled hair.

He quickly wraps himself around Louis, trying to get as much of his long body under the water, goosebumps already appearing on his arms.

“Why you up?” He mumbles in Louis’ shoulder, clearly still half-asleep.

Louis shrugs. “Almost gave me a heart attack,” he whispers to the shower wall. Harry chuckles, doesn’t apologize and presses himself even more into Louis.

“Oooops,” he says while letting his hands wander on Louis’ torso, teasing his nipples, slowly drifting towards his stomach. “This okay?” He asks when his hands reach Louis’ happy trail.

“Mmmm,” Louis says, rolling his hips slowly, feeling Harry’s erection against his lower back.

“Lou,” Harry gasps, fingers digging into Louis’ belly. “Are you…” He stops to take a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Louis usually loves Harry’s thoughtfulness. It’s one of those things that makes him such a wonderful person, so easy to love, but in that particular moment there’s nothing he wants more than to forget and he almost wishes Harry was the type of man to think dick first.

“Just touch me,” Louis whispers. “Please...” he adds, hating how plaintive and desperate he sounds.

The words are barely out of his mouth that Harry wraps a hand around his cock, quickly wanking him into full hardness. He doesn’t ask questions, just makes Louis feel cared for through the firmness of his strokes. Louis moans at the touch, hips rolling even more purposefully.

“Fuck,” Harry groans, his grip tightening as he rubs his thumb against the slit of Louis’ dick.

“Can I suck you off?” He asks as he grinds against Louis’ arse. “Please”

“Yeah,” Louis replies, breathless. “Fuck. Yes,” he adds as he turns around, grabbing Harry’s neck to pull him into a bruising kiss.

They snog for awhile, rubbing against each other slowly, feeling each other’s body. Louis never gets tired of this, of feeling Harry everywhere. He still can’t believe he gets to do this, gets to call a man like Harry his. He moans at a particularly good thrust, shaking with how much he still want all of this, even after almost a year.

Harry drops clumsily to his knees and makes a pained face that has Louis worried for a second.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he presses a hand to Harry’s cheek, thumb digging where the dimple usually sits. Harry simply nods and turns to suck Louis’ thumb in his mouth, cherry red lips looking obscene. “Shit, Harold…”

Harry lets Louis’ thumb go after suckling teasingly for a few seconds and he grins with pride, green eyes twinkling, both dimples on display. He opens his mouth again, this time taking in just the tip of Louis’ cock, going _slow slow slow_. Louis thinks he might die for a second before accepting that if he does, if this is his fate, then at least there is no better way to go than with the lips of his favourite boy wrapped around him.

Harry still teases for a few minutes before really going for it, both hands gripping Louis’ hips, nose pressing against his pubic hair as he bobs up and down, alternating between taking all of Louis’ length and licking around the tip.

“Fuck, Haz, I’m gonna…” Louis manages to warn after an embarrassingly short amount of time and Harry simply takes him deeper, swallowing everything when Louis finally tenses with a groan and comes.

He feels shaky after, thankful for the arms Harry wraps around his waist as he gets up.

“Thanks,” Louis whispers tenderly. “I really needed that.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry says with a small smile and a kiss high on Louis’ cheek.

“I love you,” Louis says softly. “So much.”

“I love you too,” Harry replies. “Can I come on your arse?” He adds cheekily and Louis almost forgot the weight of Harry’s dick on his hip, hard and unattended to.

“Way to ruin the moment,” Louis teases with a roll of his hips.

Harry gasps beautifully in reply and Louis grins at the sound. He bites Harry’s left ear before whispering: “Of course you can come on my arse love.”

He turns around, palms against the tiles, arching his back, giving Harry a good show. He can hear the quick slap of skin as he jerks himself off, can feel Harry’s thumb in the cleft of his arse. The sounds are quick, obscene, made better only by the low grunts and moans that comes out of Harry’s mouth. For a second Louis wishes he could see it; the red splotches on Harry’s cheeks, the muscles of his arms tightening as he touches himself, the glistening precome bubbling from his slit; Harry is always so beautiful this close to coming. And he is close, Louis can hear it in the heaviness of his pants and the quickening of his hand. The only thing he can do though is roll his hips teasingly and moan quietly, hoping Harry is enjoying the show.

“Fuck, Lou,” He gasps, quickening his pace.

It takes a few more seconds before Louis hears a particularly low moan and feels the splatter of Harry’s come on his lower back and the curve of his arse. Harry almost falls on top of him, panting in his shoulder.

“God…” He gasps after a minute. “Thanks,” he whispers into Louis’ skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses on the back of his neck. “Love you,” he adds after a second.

Louis hums, eyes closing automatically, his lack of sleep catching up with him. He feels Harry’s hands rubbing soap into his back, slowly and carefully washing off the traces of his orgasm.

“Good as new,” Harry says teasingly. “Wanna go back to bed for a bit?” He asks as he reaches around Louis’ body to turn the shower off.

Louis hums again, pleased with the idea of a couple more hours of sleep. Neither him nor Harry have anywhere important to be and the perspective of a good cuddle is highly appealing.

“Sounds good,” he replies while Harry opens the shower’s door and gets a towel.

They get back into bed naked after drying off quickly and Harry keeps playing with Louis’ wet fringe, a worried look in his eyes.

“I’m okay Harold,” Louis finally says after a couple more minutes because he knows he’ll never be able to go back to sleep with the weight of Harry’s inquietude on him.

“It’s not a good day though,” Harry claims. “Right?”

“It’s getting better,” Louis admits with a soft smile of his lips.

“Good,” Harry says. “Not that you’re not allowed to be sad, obviously,” he adds quickly, like he’s afraid Louis won’t feel validated in his feelings because of one comment, which is kind of ridiculous, but Harry is all about communication and does this kind of things with everyone he knows and cares about. Louis always fails dramatically at not being violently endeared by the habit.

He rolls his eyes exaggeratingly. “What did we say about Dr. Styles in the bedroom?”

Harry frowns. “I just meant that I want you to feel good, obviously. Because I love you and stuff. But of course you’re allowed not to feel that way all the time.”

“What did we say?” Louis repeats, dragging their tangled hands from underneath the covers to point a stern finger at Harry’s face.

“You said only if it’s a role-play thing, but I never ag-”

“Only if it’s a role-play thing,” Louis replies, proud to interrupt Harry’s complaint.

The day really is shifting, from a terrifying awakening to this soft bedroom banter, Louis hopes it’s only going to get better from here.

Harry pouts and tries to bite Louis’ fingers, resulting in a play fight as they both struggle to get the upper hand. There’s no rule and Harry likes to play nasty, but Louis has actual fighting experience so he manages to dominate pretty easily.

“I win,” he exclaims triumphantly, now sitting on Harry’s thighs, cheeks and torso flushed red.

Harry sighs and pouts, but Louis knows it’s only for show and that Harry’s glad they’re having simple fun, that Louis seems much better in the light of morning. He sighs loudly and drops himself on Harry’s chest, hiding in his shoulder.

“Sleep now,” Louis mumbles. “Didn’t sleep well before,” he says and immediately regrets it.

“Do you…” Harry starts to ask.

Louis shakes his head in response. “Just a nightmare,” he admits. “And no I don’t want to talk about it.”He pauses awkwardly for a second. He can barely remember it anyway, the images faded quickly, leaving him only with an uncomfortable uneasiness and dark, sharp sounds. There wouldn’t be much to tell. “Not today,” he adds.

“Okay,” Harry agrees in Louis’ hair.

 

*

 

Louis wakes up a few hours later to an empty bed, the sound of Harry humming in the kitchen and more importantly a text from Niall that says _the flowers probably came from his ex-fiancée_. It sends a jolt of energy through Louis’ body to read the words because _what?_

Zayn had a fiancée. Zayn planned to spend his future with a woman, loved her enough to ask her to marry him and chose to hide and lie instead, chose the path of secrets and deception. He wonders what happened for him to want to punish those men so badly, to want them to pay for their crimes so much that he’d give up on what seems, from Louis’ perspective, a bright future.

 _What?_ he finally replies, simple but effective. He presses sends, waits a few seconds before adding _why?_ He waits a few minutes before getting dressed, simply putting some trackies on, and joining his boyfriend.

“What are you making?” He asks as soon as he enters the kitchen, having the decency of announcing his presence immediately rather than sneaking in like some people he knows.

“Eggs and toast,” Harry says with a smile. “I was gonna surprise you in bed,” he adds with a pout.

Louis shrugs and steals Harry’s tea, grimacing at how sugary it is. “S’gonna be as nice in the kitchen.” He takes another gulp and shakes his head. “We really have to do something about that whole sugar in your tea thing.”

“I love you Lou, but you need to drop the tea thing,” Harry warns teasingly.

“You need an intervention babe. This is unhealthy.”

Harry simply looks at him in response and sure, fair enough, Louis does have quite a few unhealthy habit, but nothing as horrifying as sugar in his tea.

He’s about to argue, tell Harry that there is _nothing_ as bad as this offense, nothing in the world that he thinks is more offensive when his phone dings with a response from Niall.

_She’s a hairdresser. They broke up before he went undercover. For her safety. Her name’s Perrie._

Louis takes a deep breath, slightly shocked. He has a hard time believing how much Zayn sacrificed, how much of himself he gave away. Louis thought he had lost himself in the cause, had sacrificed something crucial and buried deep, a part of himself that he could never recover, but this… This is something else and it makes him feel slightly sick.

 _God_ , he simply answers.

 _I know_ , Niall immediately sends back.

 _I don’t understand…_ Louis admits because he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand why Zayn would do something like this, not when he had so much to look forward to.

_Cowell & Co killed his family in a robbery gone wrong, so. Was pretty personal yk?_

“Fuck,” Louis mutters angrily and he does understand. Even though it’s horrible.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, turning away from the stove, spatula in hand.

“Zayn’s ex-fiancée…. He broke it off with her to go undercover… Something about Cowell killing his family… Horrible stuff.”

“God,” Harry replies, looking genuinely upset. “She was the one who put flowers on his grave then?”

Louis shrugs. “Niall thinks so…” He looks back to his phone, lost in thoughts. He can’t imagine how horrible it must have been for her, to believe he’d gone off the trails only to learn the truth after his death… He looks back at Harry when he feels a hand on the back of his neck. “So much for a good day,” he adds sarcastically.

Harry frowns in response. “M’sorry,” he mumbles.

“Not your fault,” Louis replies automatically because it isn’t. “I think…I think I’d like to see her,” he starts, unsure of himself. “Is that weird?” He adds, worried that he’s putting his nose where he shouldn’t.

He knows he should probably let this go, let this woman grieve in peace. But he can’t. Zayn is a part of him now. What happened to him is a part of Louis’ story forever and he can’t just forget or pretend that he isn’t affected by it. He can’t let this go even though he knows it’s probably the best way to find inner peace, as Harry quite likes to remind him.

“I think… if that’s something you feel you need, then you should try. Unless she really doesn’t want to talk to you, obviously,” Harry replies with tact, playing the devil’s advocate, as usual.

“I’m gonna ask Niall,” Louis says with determination.

It’s a scary thought, but there’s something in his chest that tells him he needs to do this, needs to get closure.

 

*

 

Sitting in his car, alone on the corner of Perrie Edwards’ street, Louis feels like he’s probably making the biggest mistake of his life. He lied to everybody, saying that _yes he has called her to confirm his visit, to ask permission to see her,_ while in fact he’s been way too much of a coward to do so. His heart is beating too fast, edging towards what Louis knows is a panic attack. He has had enough of them by now to recognize the signs and he can’t help but hate himself, hate his weakness as he breathes deeply, hoping it will be enough for him to calm down. He has to do this.

“You can do this,” he tells himself firmly, eyes on the steering wheel. “The worst that can happen is that she closes the door to your face, but for that, you have to try. Hear that Tomlinson, you have to try.”

He takes a few more deep breaths, practicing the exercises Harry taught him one night, ages ago.

“Okay,” he says as he gets out of the car. “You can do this. You need to do this.”

He puts both of his hands inside Harry’s jeans jacket, hiding their shakiness in an attempt to appear somewhat friendly and normal. The last thing he wants to do is scare her.

He waits impatiently after knocking, half hoping the woman is not there so that he can go back to hiding in his car. It takes a while but the door finally open to reveal a pretty blonde.

“Hi,” Louis says. “Hello. My name is Louis Tomlinson. I was-”

“I know who you are,” Perrie replies carefully. “I recognize you from the news.”

Louis somehow hadn’t expected that and he feels a bit foolish for being surprised by her following the story. But of course, she would have. Her boyfriend, _fiancé_ he reminds himself, was involved. Of course she would have followed the story…

“Right,” he says clumsily, disturbed by this deviation from the script he’s mentally prepared. “I… I’m sorry for bothering you and coming here unannounced, but I just couldn’t help myself,” Louis admits weakly. “I just learned of your existence a couple of days ago and I guess… I guess I wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss.”

She looks upset and Louis hates himself a little bit, feels selfish for putting her through this.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “I know it’s probably weird that I’m here, I just…” he trails off, unable to justify this.

Perrie bites her lips, looking lost in thoughts. Finally, she shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “Do you want to come in for a cuppa?” she asks politely and Louis tries to guess if she really means it. There’s something in her eyes, though, something that makes him nod in response.

“Okay,” he replies quickly. “Yeah, thank you.”

They sit silently in the kitchen, waiting for their tea to brew. Louis feels terrible, unsure of what to say.

“You were with him?” Perrie finally asks. “You… worked with him, right?”

Louis nods timidly. “Yes.”

“Did you know…” She closes her eyes with a pained expression. “Did you know he was undercover?”

“No,” Louis laughs quietly. “I just felt really guilty for being friends with a criminal to be honest.”

Perrie smiles at that, a bit more sincere than before. “You were friends?” She asks more enthusiastically.

Louis gulps, willing himself to remain calm. “I like to think so,” he admits in a soft voice. “He was… the only person I really liked in there. When he died…” Louis stops himself, glancing up, unsure of he should say anything about Zayn’s death.

She must see something in his eyes because she’s quick to inquire. “You were there?”

Louis closes his eyes briefly, mentally preparing himself. “Yeah…” he admits. “Yeah, I was there.”

Perrie licks her lips nervously, eyes filling with tears. She gets up abruptly to check on the tea. “How was it?” She asks, clearly trying to hide her emotions.

Louis isn’t going to call her on it though. He knows too well how she feels. He wants to lie. He really does. He wants to tell her that it was peaceful, that Zayn didn’t suffer. He’s lied too much though, the weight of it still scratching down his throat. He can’t do it anymore. He doesn’t have the strength.

“It was horrible,” he admits with a shaky laugh, painfully honest like he always wants to be now.

She sighs deeply, shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Louis adds because he can’t imagine how hard this must be for her to hear.

She shakes her head, still turned towards the counter, fumbling with the mugs. “It’s okay. I want you to tell me.” She turns to face him, eyes a bit red. “Please tell me.”

Louis nods. “He was shot in an operation to… Well to find me. Or us. To find the traitor, I mean. There was nothing we could do really, it all happened so fast. Once we were safe, well… They didn’t want to take him to hospital, considering… He was bleeding a lot and everybody was yelling and then he just died. One minute he was…” Louis gulps, trying to hold back tears. “And then he was dead.”

Perrie is crying in her hands now, making small sniffing sounds, still trying to hide it.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis says again, knowing how powerless and empty those words truly are.

“Did he say anything?” She asks pleadingly, probably hoping for some comfort.

Louis thinks about Zayn’s last words, thinks about his pleading tone. _Tell me why Louis!_ He can still hear it, sometimes, a faint echo bouncing through his mind, and how horrifyingly poetic is it, really, when there was clearly no answers in their little tragedy. Louis asks himself why so often that it’s almost meaningless now. He’s never going to know.

“Nothing important…” Louis finally answers because it wasn’t. Not really. “He had me figured out, you know. He was smart like that.”

She nods with a small, fond smile. “Yeah,” she agrees softly.

“He knew I was a cop too and he could have given me away, in those last moments. But he didn’t. And for the longest time I didn’t understand, why he’d protect me, you know? But I know now. I know we were the same.”

Perrie snorts a bit mockingly. “Did you also think revenge was more important than anything else in your life?” She asks and she sounds bitter now. He can’t really blame her.

Louis shakes his head softly. “I didn’t have anything else important in my life,” he admits eyes down. “But I do now. And there’s a lot I would do to protect it.”

Perrie doesn’t reply, just gulps loudly.

“I know I didn’t know Zayn really well,” Louis adds. “Not like you did. But I don’t think it was about revenge.”

“What else could it be?” Perrie asks. “I keep trying to explain it to myself, why he’d leave me, why he’d do this…. But nothing makes sense. What else could it be about?”

“Justice,” Louis says with a shrug. “That’s what it was for me.”

Perrie looks surprised “Maybe,” she admits. “It’s not that different though…”

“Different enough,” Louis replies quickly because it is. It’s a big difference. “I think anyone who knew him, even only a little like me, knew that he wouldn’t have been motivated by revenge. Not Zayn.”

Perrie sobs at that and Louis feels like the worst person in the world. He can’t believe he convinced himself this was a good idea, can’t believe he thought they could help each other.

“You’re right,” she finally admits through the tears. “I’ve been so angry… More angry than when I thought he’d gone… corrupt. I know revenge wasn’t his style…”

“I get it,” Louis replies even though he feels completely out of his depth. “I’m sorry I came, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Why did you come?” She asks and she sounds both confused and genuinely curious. 

Louis is not sure he can explain it, but the least he can do is try for her.

“I think about him a lot, you know. I guess, I guess I miss him and to know that someone else… Someone else was grieving for him… I don’t know. It made me feel all sorts of weird and I had to see you. I had to tell you that I miss him too and that I’m really sorry. I wanted to tell you that he did really good. And, that I wish…” He has to stop then, feeling too close to tears. He clears his throat. “ That I wish I could have done something… To help him, to make it better… That I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was there and I didn’t even try…” he trails off, rubbing his tears away.

“I wasn’t gonna open the door, you know. When I saw you through the window. I knew who you were and I didn’t want to deal with it.”

“I know,” Louis says weakly. “I know I shouldn’t have come, I just...”

“I’m glad I did, though,” she replies with a startled laugh, tears still falling.

Louis laughs too, a weak little thing, barely there but still a laugh. “Really? All I did was tell you horrible stuff…”

She shrugs. “What happened was horrible,” she says. “People never want to talk about that. It’s good sometimes to…”

“Acknowledge it?” Louis offers.

She nods. “Yeah. I’m sick of people being careful with it. It was horrible, can we be honest and just say it?”

“It was fucking awful,” Louis adds with a small smile. “It was really fucking awful and you can trust me on that one ‘cause I was actually there,” he says and suddenly they’re both laughing hysterically, unable to stop.

When Louis leaves hours later, it’s with a bag of leftovers and an appointment with Perrie to, as she so eloquently put it, _fix that mess he calls hair._

 

*

 

Harry is already asleep when he enters the flat, so Louis puts the leftovers in the fridge as silently as possible before taking his clothes off in the bathroom and tiptoeing all the way to his side of the bed. He takes a moment to look at Harry’s sleeping body, allows himself a second to fondly notice his tousled hair and soft snores, silently thanking every stars and deities for the way things worked out for him, for his twisted version of a happy ending.

 

*

 

“Take two then,” Louis tells the grave. He sits down this time, willing to try and do this thing properly.

“I brought you fags,” he starts, putting the newsports in front of the tomb, next to the fresh daisies, figuring its as good as any way to start. “I figured I’d let Perrie do the flowers thing. S’not really my style, right?”

He lets a beat pass, taking deep breath, trying to figure out all of the things he wants to say.

“I think I’m gonna be okay, Zayn,” is what he decides to start with.

**Author's Note:**

> you can hit me up on [ tumblr ](http://mediawhorefics.tumblr.com)


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